


I know it's everybody's sin (you got to lose to know how to win)

by Merideath



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Dream Sex, F/M, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: Naps are a bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This smutlet is a belated birthday gift for miin who requested Steve/Darcy and dreaming...or I think she did. I started the thing weeks ago and haven't been very well (I think I have a chest infection and am going to the dr next week), and the little focus I've had has gone everywhere else but the art of storytelling. 
> 
> So, happy belated birthday, miin. 
> 
> Thank you, dizzy, for your amazeballs beta skills.

"Stop it.”

"I'm not doing anything," Steve says. He stifles another yawn.  
  
"You're huffing. It's not helping my concentration," Darcy says. She barely looks up from the computer screen. "Take a nap or something, your yawning is making me yawn."  
  
"I don't need to sleep."  
  
"Says the fugitive who hasn't slept for three days."  
  
"We met up with you two days ago."  
  
"Exactly," Darcy says. She lifts her hand from the keys long enough to point at the sofa along the back wall. "Sleep. I'll wake you when I'm done or when _Incy Wincy_ and _Launchpad McQuack_ get back." She ignores him after that, shoving her earbuds in. She focuses on the job at hand and not the ex-hero muttering across the room as he sprawls out on the small couch.

…

He’s in the middle of things before they’ve begun. The expanse of his shoulders between her pale thighs, one arm looped around her leg to hold her tight. His tongue traces the folds of her cunt, circles the tight bud of her clit.

Darcy squirms in his grip, her nails scraping over his scalp. She’s holding herself up by the other hand, eyes closed tight. A flush of red colors her from her chest up the column of her throat to her face. The pink of her cheeks is a fair match to the cherry red of her lips. Lips bruised, not from kissing, but the bite of white teeth.

“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” he asks, trailing his fingers over the path of his tongue. “Scream my name as you come?”

The first time they met was just after the Battle of New York. He thought she was too young to be chasing after the trouble they were all neck deep in. Younger than he was when the war chewed him up and his own stupidity had him spat out in a future he never wanted. He didn't think much of her then, far too lost in his own grief and anger. But she was clever. A survivor, and one of the few people Romanoff labeled as ‘slightly better’ than herself at making modern technology do her bidding.

Darcy was a firecracker. Her sharp words could burn to the marrow, but she was loyal and fierce and free in a way Steve never felt with the weight of the shield heavy on his back. Now he wanted to burn himself in the spark of her fire. Drown in the earthy sweetness between her thighs. Bury himself deep enough to thaw the lingering ice in his chest.

“Wanted you like this for so long,” he says, sliding two fingers into the slick heat of her pussy.

“Steve,” Darcy says, his name caught between exasperation and benediction. Her breath is uneven, a ragged thing. The movement of her chest draws his eyes to her breasts, straining the buttons of the sheer lace camisole she’s wearing. The dusky rose of her nipples forms hard peaks beneath the silk, the fabric wet from his mouth.

“Louder,” he says, twisting his fingers. He nips at Darcy’s thigh, white teeth sinking into pale flesh hard enough to leave a mark. The primitive part of his brain screams ‘mine’. Darcy inhales, a deep steadying breath that wavers at the end.

“Steve, please,” Darcy says, voice caught between a whisper and a moan. She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting to rock her hips against the grip of his hands. Steve flashes her a smile, his mouth and chin glistening wetly. He seals his mouth to her clit, sucking hard enough to drag a ragged cry from her lungs.

The pads of her fingers press into his scalp, nails digging into his skin. Her cunt flutters around his fingers, delicate as butterfly wings and all he can think about is pushing into her, feeling her coming around his cock as he fucks into her. Arousal burns down his spine and settles in his gut.

“Ste...eve,” Darcy’s voice catches, blurring around the edges. His eyes stay open as he fucks her with his fingers, tongue teasing looping shapes around her clit. Darcy’s back bows, face flushed red, as her body locks into place. Her eyes are shut, the dark line of eyeshadow smudged and messy. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as she comes, a flood of warmth dripping over his fingers and chin.  His cock jumps and Steve’s hips rock forward, seeking.

“Steve….Steve.”

….

“Steve, wake up.”

“Darcy,” he slurs.

“Get your ass up, Captain, it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.”

Steve snaps awake, jumping up from the couch. He knocks Darcy to the ground, pinning her body down with his own, one hand wrapped around a slender wrist the other curling around her. His eyes widen as adrenaline burns through his body.

"Oh shit. Darcy, m'sorry," he says. He moves his hand from her neck and slaps his palms flat on the floor on either side of Darcy's head. His body is ready to fight, more than fight as he shrugs off the fog of sleep.  
  
"One of the perks of the job,"  Darcy says. Her cheeks are red and she fixes her eyes on  Steve's throat instead of his face. She takes a deep breath and licks her lips. "Good dream, huh?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Good dream?" She rolls her eyes at the blank look on his face. The slack jaw does little to disguise the flush creeping up his neck or the dark of his eyes. Darcy drags her lip between her teeth and arches her hips up.  
  
Steve groans, eyes slamming shut. His own hips hitch forward, and a wave of red-hot embarrassment tinged with want crawls up his chest and into his face. "Fuck." He rolls off of her and climbs to his feet, apologies spilling from his lips.

Darcy slaps her hand over his mouth, “Oh my God, will you shut up.”

“Ro...re,” Steve mumbles behind her palm. A childish part of him considers licking the palm of her hand, but the thought is far too close to the thought of licking other parts of her.

“We got the goodies, let’s bounce,” she says holding up a Hello Kitty thumbdrive.

“Yeah, just...just give me a minute,” he says.

Darcy tilts her head to the side, eyes roving down his body. She doesn’t say anything, but the way she bites down on her bottom lip again is far more trouble than he needs right now. Next time though. Next time,when they aren’t knee deep in semi-corporate espionage and he’s not had more than twenty minutes sleep in a handful of days.

 

“

  



End file.
